


Of Innocence and Fate

by LadyBee



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Jon Snow is a Targaryen, alternative universe, jon is a prince, rhaegar is alive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-03
Updated: 2018-08-03
Packaged: 2019-06-20 22:50:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15543888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyBee/pseuds/LadyBee
Summary: A compilation of drabbles originally published on Tumblr. All in the same alternative universe in which Rhaegar won the war and became king, with only Jon as his heir.





	Of Innocence and Fate

**The Prince in the North**

  
  


The young prince greeted all of them with sober demeanor. Maybe too sober for a child, but if he was as much of a northerner as his featured suggested, Ned could only see much of himself in that child’s face.

Sansa blushed at the sight of him and there was no surprise in that. Ned was well aware of the sort of dreams blooming in his daughter’s head. She dreamed of a gallant prince that would take her as his bride like those in a song. Ned had no interest in any kind of match between the prince and one of his daughters, though.

Robb and Bran looked at their cousin with interest. He was the new thing. Another one to play games with and practice with play swords. If he was right, there would be some serious disputes of snowballs in the following months.

“Are you really a prince?” It was Arya the one to break the silence and make Cately prettified with fear. Ned observed the prince to straight his riding clothes and look at her as if she had two heads. “Shouldn’t a prince have silver hair and be tall? You look like my brother.”

“I am the prince and princes don’t have to be tall. There’s no law about it…I guess.” Jon answered her obviously embarrassed by Arya’s question while all the adults looked to their interaction with apprehension. “And I took after my lady mother. That’s why I look like your brothers…And you. We are cousins.”

“Fine.” She answered with disappointment in her childish voice. “I guess you can be a prince. Princes have to do needle work?”

“I…don’t know.” Jon answered honestly before looking at his father in search of an answer. “I’ve never had to.”

Sansa was utterly mortified buy Arya’s questions to the prince, Ned could tell. Robb and Bran were trying not to laugh when Cat gave them a look that meant they would be in serious trouble if they made a sound.

Arya looked at her parents with curious eyes and if Ned knew anything at all about the girl was that she was about to make them even more embarrassed.

“Can I be a prince so I won’t have to do needle work?” Ned didn’t know what to say, but before he could even think about it, the king’s laugh was heard.

Rhaegar was laughing so hard that it was possible to see tears in his eyes, while the prince looked as his father curiously. That was a relive to all of the Stark house hold and definitely lowered the formality of the situation to a much more tolerable level.

“I’m sure this one will give you a lot of trouble, Jon.” Rhaegar said to the boy with affectionate tone. “If you manage to handle lady Arya, than you are sure to become a king of some value.”

§§§§§§§§§§§§

**The Prince’s Cousins**

Prince Jon had been quite aware of the difficulties he would face in life since a very young age. He was made Prince of Dragonstone shortly after his birth and therefore he was heir presumptive to his father, King Rhaegar Targaryen. If anyone had asked him about it, Jon would say that he never wanted to be prince, or king. There was no fun in that and those tittles had brought him nothing but Vyseris cruelty.

He had no mother to look after him, and his father was usually busy with kingly matters or his everlasting melancholy. Jon had no friends at the capitol, except for the knights of the King’s Guard and uncle Benjen.

When his father announced that he was supposed to go North and live with his other uncle, Eddard Stark, and his family, Jon was afraid of what sort of people the Stark’s might be. Benjen assured him that Ned and he were much alike and that Winterfell would always be his home. According to the maesters and his own father, Jon had at least four cousins waiting for him in the North.

He had never had cousins before and he wondered if they would be cruel like Vyseris, or more like Dany, who was kind and liked to play with him whenever the Queen Mother wasn’t near to see. He prayed for the gods for good cousins so he would have cousins that would also be his friends. He didn’t pray for the new gods father prayed for. He prayed for the ones his mother used to worship. Her gods were from the North so he figured out that they might be more inclined to hear his prays.

It might have worked, he concluded once he meet the Starks.

Robb was about his age and they had much in common. They liked to swim at the springs, throw snowballs at each other, play with practice swords, ride horses, the only problem was that Robb preferred to be Florian The Fool, or The Prince of Dragonflies when they played. Jon was convinced that Prince Dareon, The Young Drangon, and Aemon, The Dragonkight were better, but no one can be perfect.

Bran was little more than a baby of three, but he would laugh whenever Jon made weird faces to him and he liked spooky stories. Jon was usually mesmerized by how Bran would climb high chairs and fences, even when his legs were too short to make the task easy.

There were also the girls.

Sansa looked like Lady Stark, with bright red hair and blue eyes. Something about her never failed to make Jon uncomfortable. She was always smiling at him and talking about love songs he never knew about. He had the constant feeling that she wanted something from him, like most girls he knew at King’s Landing, but he had no idea of what it was.

Finally there was Arya. At first she had made him uncomfortable by questioning if he was really a prince. Then she asked about the need of princes learning needle work, but he had never held a needle before so he concluded that his princely duties didn’t include needles.

She doubted that he was a prince, so she would never call him His Highness like everyone else. He kind of liked it. If he wasn’t a prince he wouldn’t have to behave like one, or mind his courtesies with her. They could simply talk.

Arya liked to talk, he figured that quite easily and there was little he could do about it other than answer to any and every question she would throw at him, especially about dragons. She made a lot of questions and if his answers weren’t of her liking she would call him stupid. Nobody had ever called him stupid before, but he figured that the way she said that was somehow affectionate and not cruel like the way Vyseris would talk to him.

He concluded that Arya liked him. She would only call stupid the ones she liked to tease.

§§§§§§§§§§§§

**The King’s Song**

During the feasts the king was always pleasant and polite to the Starks, specially sending sweets to the kids. After dinner he would always present them with his musical gifts, playing the high harp and singing in a way that had made Lyanna cry so many years ago.

Jon used to lay his head on the table and look at his father, humming whatever tune the king was playing. Bran usually felt asleep during the song and Robb would sing only the ones about heroes. Sansa often shed tears and sang along when she knew the song. During those moments, Arya was always silent and contemplative. She liked the stories behind the lyrics and often asked Ned, or anyone who would tell her what the song was all about.

Once she had pocked Jon on his side and made him jump on his seat just to ask him why he had never sang to them as well. The prince lowered his face a bit and quietly said that no one had ever asked for him to, although his father insisted that he should learn about music.

“Sing to me.” She said. There was no request, no room for the prince to refuse. Despite that, Ned saw Jon giving her a half smile before saying. “Latter.”

§§§§§§§§§§§§§§

**Lady Arya, The Healer**

Prince Jon was always embarrassed whenever someone saw the marks on his back. Vyseris had given him most of them. It was a remind that he wasn’t a real prince, just another bastard that no one cared about.

He didn’t like people to see it. The marks on his back were reasons for shame, because despite of him being a prince, he wasn’t strong like Daeron The Young, or Aemon Dragonknight to fight back. He was usually afraid of Vyseris fits and even if he tried to do something to stop him, the Queen Mother would punish him for touching her son.

That was the reason why he would usually swim with his shirt on. Lord Stark had seem the marks once and told him that he shouldn’t be afraid of being hurt anymore. Jon trusted his uncle and he felt safe in Winterfell, but he never allowed anyone else to see him shirtless.

It would have worked, if only Arya knocked at the door before entering anywhere. She saw him changing his shirt after his sword practice. He tried to cover it as fast as possible but by the look at her face he could tell it was useless.

She raised her sleeve to show him a long mark in her arm. The she raised her skirt just a bit to show another scar at her ankle. It was her way of telling him that she had marks too and he felt compelled to show her his.

Arya looked at his back and didn’t say a word. Instead of saying anything she kissed the tip of her finger and then touched his scars rubbing them a bit, like a maester applying their stinky pastes.

He asked her why she was doing that. She shrank her tinny shoulders before answering.

“Mom gives me a kiss when I get hurt. She says it’s magic that stops the pain. I kissed yours and now they won’t hurt anymore.”

§§§§§§§§§§§§§§

**Lord Stark’s Concerns**

The prince and his youngest daughter had gotten along almost immediately, and Lord Stark wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a source of worries. Jon had quickly become to Arya what Sansa never was. He became her favorite person by sharing with her the things he knew and helping her to do the things she wanted regardless to the fact that she was not a boy. In exchange Arya would share with him the things she knew about Winterfell and make him laugh with her witty mind. She had shown him how to climb trees and he had allowed her to ride a real horse instead of a pony.

Ned had seen them chatting. Jon had thought her about Dareon, The Young Dragon and told her stories about Aegon and his sisters. The prince told her about the dragon skulls in the Red Keep enough for Arya to ask him if he had ever found a dragon egg and wonder how nice it would be to fly on dragon’s back. She would often sneak into the kitchen to stuff her pockets with tarts before dinner and went straight to Jon to share them with him.

She had asked Jon to teach her how to use a sword and Ned had found them in the godswood playing with sticks in a way that made him remember how Lya and Benjen used to do the same thing. Ned wondered if it was a good idea for Arya to learn such things, but could not find a reason to prohibit the girl of learning.

Once Ned took the time to talk to the young prince and try to understand a bit of what was happening between him and Arya and if he liked his new life at Winterfell. The prince looked at his feet and shrank his shoulders a bit.

“I wanted to see the Wall, but I like it here.” He answered shyly. “Maester Luwin is nice to me and I like swimming with Robb and telling Bran scary stories. He is always shaking when I tell them but he keeps asking for more.”

“Are you happy here?” Ned asked.

“They are all nice to me, even Lady Stark.” Jon answered innocently. “I told her that it was me the one who got Arya’s dress dirty. I shouldn’t spin her around the way I did. She fell in a mud puddle and got dirty, but it was my fault. Lady Stark was nice to me, but Arya couldn’t eat sweets for a week.”

“Why did you spin her around?” Ned asked curiously.

“She always laughs when I do it.” Jon he answered it as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“You shouldn’t do it. One of you can get hurt. Find another game to play, one that is safer.” Ned replied him with a firm tone. “I’m glad thought. You are quick to take responsibilities and this is very honorable of you. Cat must have punished Arya because she was not supposed to be playing like that.”

“She said it was not a game for ladies.” Jon answered. “Does Arya have to be a lady?”

“Yes. Why is that?” Ned felt curious.

“I like Arya better the way she is now.” Jon answered as a matter of fact. “All the ladies I know only call me prince, Your Highness and stuff like these. They pay courtesies and keep acting strangely whenever I’m near. Arya never calls me by titles. She doesn’t care that I’m a prince. She just calls me Jon and I like it better this way.”

§§§§§§§§§§§§§§

  
  


**The Prince’s Plan**

Prince Jon had developed this sense of entitlement while living under his uncle’s roof. Not that he thought himself better than his peers, only that he had learned to take one thing for granted and that was Arya’s affection. There was no secret about it and everyone at Winterfell knew that the young prince would do anything for his cousin and Arya would do just the same for him.

When they were nothing but children, Jon was resolute about naming Arya as Hand once he was crowned. Obviously he soon learned that she couldn’t be Hand because most lords wouldn’t tolerate the idea of a woman being more important than they were. After that he considered that she could be Master of Coins, or take some other position in the Small Council. It was only when he reached the age of four-and-ten that Jon started to consider something else…

Although she was still young, Arya would become a woman one day and there was nothing that anyone could do about it. Since he was a prince and future king of the Seven Kingdoms, Jon realized that he would need a wife eventually. If he was supposed to marry someone, wouldn’t it be for the best if his bride were also his friend? More than that, wouldn’t it be beneficial for the realm to have a queen that was as clever as Arya? Jon assumed that it had always been part of his father’s plans to have him married to one of the Stark girls and if Jon had to choose one it was plain enough that he would pick Arya without even blink.

He never really talked to her about his plan. He just assumed that she would like to be queen, like any other girl he knew. The prince was so certain about this that he even started to imagine how it would be like when they made the announcement. His uncle would shake his hand and be proud of his choice. Lady Stark would smile at him dutifully and try to fix Arya’s hair just to make sure that her daughter would look like a queen. Robb would make terrible jests about it and Bran would tease Arya. Only Sansa would be disappointed for not being the chosen one, but Jon would make sure that she would marry someone gentle and handsome. And Arya…She would roll her eyes when he tried to kiss her, but she would be laughing and smiling because she would be happy.

As Arya grew into a woman, Jon got more and more convinced that his plan was a good one, not only because she had qualities that he considered to be vital to any queen, but especially because he started to find the idea of kissing her more and more appealing.

The day her blood came for the first time, was the day Jon decided to write to his father and ask about the possibility of marrying his cousin. It didn’t take long for the young prince to learn that his uncle Ned had other plans to his daughter, though.

“Arya can’t marry Edric Dayne.” Jon had said it right away to his uncle once they had some privacy. Ned simply looked at him with a curious expression.

“I don’t see why she couldn’t. The boy is already Lord of Starfall and seems to be a respectable and honorable lad. He’s said to be handsome too. I know you are fond of my daughter, Your Highness, but this matter doesn’t concerns you.”

“It does concern me, my lord.” Jon said while handing his uncle the letter he received from the king. “Arya won’t marry a Dayne or anyone else. According to His Majesty’s words, she is promised to me.”

Jon could tell that his uncle had felt betrayed by his behavior. As Ned read the parchment, there was little doubt that he would rather give Arya to anyone than to allow her to marry Rhaegar’s son. The wound was still open in his uncle’s heart and Ned would never forgive the king for taking Lyanna away, as he would never forgive Jon for taking Arya.

“I thought you to be more honorable.” The words came out of Ned’s mouth bitterly. “Acting behind my back is not the kind of behavior I would have expected from you.”

“Would you ever consider giving her to me if I had asked for her hand?” Jon answered back with his chin up and all the boldness he never knew that he had. “Would you ever look at me and see me as your sister’s son instead of Rhaegar’s son?”

“You are being unfair, Jon.” Ned turned his face.

“Am I?” Jon replied. “I don’t know what happened between you and my father. I barely know what truly happened to my mother other than the fact that my father was in love with her and because of that he started a war. I know what is in the books, but neither of you would ever tell me the truth about the feelings behind it. You have never forgiven my father for what he did and you would have me punished for that by denying me my bride.”

“I look at Arya and see my sister in everything she does. I’ve lost Lyanna already. She died in my arms after giving birth to you, boy. I lost my father, my brother, nearly my life because of Rhaegar’s reckless behavior and obsession. You are all Stark in your looks and I hoped you to be more like me, but I can’t help seeing Rhaegar’s melancholy and cold determination in your eyes. You are far more conscientious of your position, though. You asked for royal permission and you came to me just to inform that I have no say in the matter of my daughter’s future without giving me the chance to speak against this folly. You won’t declare war for her, but you are stealing her just like your father did to your mother.”

“My father did not steal my mother.” Jon answered coldly.

“Why did he keep her locked up inside a tower and put a hundred men to guard her? Do you think Lyanna could walk away whenever she wanted to? Do you think she would have any say in the matter if Rhaegar decided to have her?” Ned finally let his rage take the best of him. “Does my daughter know about this? Is she happy about it, Your Highness?”

“She doesn’t know yet.” Jon admitted. “I wanted to settle things between us first.”

“Good luck telling her that she will be locked up inside the Red Keep for a lifetime and nothing she says would ever change that. You are your father’s son after all.”

“I am my father’s son, but I am not Rhaegar Targaryen.” Jon sighed. “I would never do anything to hurt her. If Arya tell me that she doesn’t want me, I won’t insist on the matter. Would you give her the same option if she told you she doesn’t want Edric Dayne?”

The prince never waited for his uncle’s answer. Although he tried to deny it, Jon had to admit that Ned Stark had some reason. It has been the first time he actually heard his uncle’s version about what happened during the war. Until that very moment everything Jon had heard about it was how much his father loved his mother and how he would have done anything for her.

He ignored the fact that his mother had been promised to another man and his father took her away. In his childish mind, Jon had pictured Rhaegar as a gallant prince, rescuing his lady love from some sort of villain. What his actions had caused not only to the Stark’s, but also to the whole country, was something nobody ever bothered to tell him about.

Prince Jon went to the godswood and sat under the heart-tree for a while, trying to think about what to do next. His uncle was right. If he wanted Arya to be his bride he should at least have the courage to tell her about it.

Arya might have felt something in the air, because it didn’t take much for her to come after him in the godswood. Her dress was dirty and her hands looked like as if she had been digging something. Jon looked at her and realized that she had flowers in her hands.

“I found them in the forest. I thought you would like to take some to your mother’s grave.” She said with a smile while handing him the flowers.

“Thank you.” He sighed. Jon realized that sometime there is no easy way of saying things.

“You look more grumpy than usual.” Arya said, finally sitting by his side and without asking permission as she always did. “What happened?”

“Remember when I promised you that you would be Hand of the King once I was crowned?” He asked her.

“Yes, I do. That would be funny, but you realized that no lord would ever support you if you did that.” She answered.

“Precisely. I…I still want you by my side when I’m king. Father will command me to go back to King’s Landing any time now and…”

“Things will be different.” Arya completed his sentence as she usually did. “I wish the King could allow you to stay with us forever.”

“Me too. When the time comes, would you like to come with me?” He asked while looking at his boots.

“I would love to travel south, but I don’t think father would allow it.” Arya answered without realizing what he was talking about. “I could try to convince mother that a time in court would help me with my manners, though.”

“What if I told you that there’s a way of you to come with me and that we would never have to be apart?” Jon finally asked.

“Is this some kind of royal decree? Has the king named me a lady-in-waiting or something?” She teased. “Oh mother would love something like that!”

“It’s not a royal decree. Not yet, at least.” He said while shrinking his shoulder. “Arya, I…I can’t make you Hand, but I can make you something else; something just as important to any king, if you want to. I already talked to father about it and he says it’s something he hoped for since I came to Winterfell.”

“What is it, stupid?” She asked in a jest.

He thought about all the love songs he had ever heard; all the songs he had sang to her and things only heroes can do when declaring their love to a maiden. He looked her Arya, with her messy hair, dirty dress and her eyes so grey. He picked one of the flowers she had given him and put it behind her ear, making Arya look at him with a confused expression.

He lowered his head a bit, allowing his lips to brush against hers in a tender kiss. He wondered if he was the first man to kiss her. He wondered what his father would have done in his place. At least he was right about one thing. Jon liked to kiss her.

“I can make you a princess…”He whispered to her. “One day I can make you queen.”

§§§§§§§§§§§§§

  
  


**Arya and The Prince’s Question**

Since the king came to Winterfell for the first time, and she had been introduced to her royal cousin, Arya had known that her life would be somehow dictated by royal tantrums and decrees. She was supposed not only to be a lady, but also she would be part of the future king’s intimate circle and that had made her lady mother more than just a bit nervous.

The idea of having a cousin though, was something she liked. He was supposed to have Robb’s age, but hopefully the prince would be funnier and let her take part in the boys’ games. While Sansa would think about the prince’s looks and if he would like her or not, Arya was more interested in finding out if he knew anything about dragons, or if he had found any dragon’s egg hidden in the Red Keep’s dungeons.

To say that Jon was a bit of a disappointment at first was an understatement.

The king, Arya remembered, was a formidable sight. Rhaegar’s silver blond hair and fair completion was something musicians all over the country used to praise. Although he was no longer a young man, he was still as handsome as ever and there was this everlasting melancholy about his face that made him even more attractive, even to a girl as young as she was back then. While Rhaegar seemed to have come out of a song, Prince Jon was simply plain, or so she thought.

His hair was darker than hers and he looked like every boy in the North. At least her brothers had the Tully’s red hair and blue eyes. Poor Jon had all the Stark’s features just like her, but Jeyne never dared to call him Jon Horse Face.

He was also very shy, she realized. Whenever anyone who wasn’t uncle Benjen talked to him, Jon would shrink his shoulders and look around for some kind of help. He looked like his father a bit, she supposed. They both had this sadness about their faces that made them almost ethereal. He didn’t seem to fit the royal party or Winterfell for that matter.

When they first talked to each other, Arya thought he might faint out of exasperation. Jon seemed to be under constant pressure, thinking about the right answers to give and the proper way to behave, while Arya couldn’t care less about it. She thought it to be funny and at that moment Arya decided that they would be friends, even if Jon didn’t look like a prince at all.

Although Jon was shy, he was also very clever and never seemed to care much about the way she act or if her clothes were dirty. Sometimes he would talk to her as if Arya was one of her siblings and there was no such a thing as forbidden topics of conversation. That made her feel special somehow. Jon had shown her his scars and she had done just the same for him. After that they became quite inseparable.

Years have passed and Arya observed how Jon grew up from a plain lad into a handsome young man. His shyness and introspective attitude was substituted by a much more confident demeanor while Arya herself remained as wild as ever. They were the most unlikely friends, she concluded but there was no one in the world that she loved more than Jon.

Sansa was never really happy about Arya’s friendship with their royal cousin, though. Sansa had always been the beautiful and accomplished one, while Arya grew up in her sister’s shadow. In her head, Sansa had cultivated the belief that she would marry Jon and be queen one day, although father had made it clear enough that he had no interest in such unions.

That never failed to make Arya sad. Sansa never really understood Jon, or even cared to talk to him about anything other than songs. She was pleasant and polite to him but never a friend. Even so, if father changed his mind about it, it would be Sansa the one they would pick to be Jon’s bride and Arya would be nothing…She would be just a girl the prince used to play with.

Jon insisted that she would be important though. First he wanted her to be Hand, than he wanted her at the Small Council, but what would be of her if she was sent to a place like The Vale, or even Dorne, to marry some stupid lord? As they grew up, those questions started to have a totally different relevance in their lives. Jon wouldn’t give her up though.

When her blood came for the first time it had felt like a warning to her. Things would change soon and Arya couldn’t tell if they would be for the best. Jon became more anxious and awkward during those days and she wondered if it had anything to do with the fact that his father could call him back at anytime now, or if it was because he didn’t know how to deal with her…being a woman.

Everybody seemed to be a bit tipsy around her and her mother had told her that she would receive some good news in the following days. Arya couldn’t possibly figure out what kind of news it would be, but if her mother was pleases, than it certainly wouldn’t be a good thing.

She wanted to talk about it with Jon, but he had vanished that day after having a long conversation with her father. Arya only found him several hours later, sitting under the heart tree with a face that made it plain that Jon was lost at his deep thoughts.

They talked briefly about how things would change once he was send back to King’s Landing and how he wanted her to come with him. Arya would love to live that kind of adventure and get out of the North for the first time. Maybe father would allow her to, if mother was convinced that it would be beneficial to Arya’s manners to have a bit of southern education.

She had expected Jon to share his meticulous plan with her. In her mind it was clear that he would try to get her in the Targaryen household as a lady-in-waiting or something like that. She waited for his revelation with the same enthusiasm she had always felt whenever Jon had a secret to share with her.

Jon touched her face in a way he had never done before. His face came closer while she waited for a whisper that never came.

She felt his lips on hers in a clumsy but tender kiss. Arya closed her eyes immediately, even when she was surprised by his sudden boldness. Jon’s hand caressed her nape while keeping her close. His tongue asked for passage and she allowed in a way that was almost wicked.

“I can make you a princess…”He whispered to her. “One day I can make you queen.”

Those words had broken something inside her. Her innocence, if not her heart.

Arya looked at him in confusion while Jon looked back at her with the same kind of utter anxiety he used to show whenever he felt insecure about anything. There was also hope in his eyes and a desperate cry for acceptance.  _Do not reject me_. His eyes seemed to say and Arya would never deny Jon anything, but in many ways she was still a child and Jon had turned himself from a hero and friend into something else.

He was a man and he wanted her. Arya just never learned how to deal with it.

“What in the seven hells are you talking about?” It came out of her mouth and she realized, probably too late, that those words have hurt him.

Jon took a deep breath and tried to recompose himself.

“I thought it was clear by now. I’m sorry for being so bold. It wasn’t the proper behavior of a prince.” He said soberly. “I just…What I’m trying to do is…Gods! Nobody ever told me it would be so difficult.” Jon took a deep breath and closed his hands in a fist. “I’m asking for your hand, Arya. I want you to be my wife.”

“What about Sansa?” It was the only question that crossed her mind.

“Sansa?” Jon looked at her confused.

“She is the one meant to be a princess. She knows how to be a princess.” Arya said.

“I don’t care about it.” He said a bit annoyed. “I don’t want Sansa for a wife.”

“Why would you want me? It doesn’t make any sense.” Arya insisted. Jon sighed.

“You are my friend. Probably my best friend since I came to Winterfell, and I trust you.” He answered soberly. “There’s a reason why father sent me here. He needs your father’s support and he hopped that I would build a strong bond with the Starks and so I did. Marry one of Lord Stark’s daughters would be an expected consequence and a way to fulfill the Pact of Ice and Fire in the way he wanted to do when he married my mother, only this time to guarantee peace. I could go on and on with the political reasons, but that’s not why I asked you.” He looked directly at her. “I asked you because I…I love you.”

She remained silent for a while. Jon wasn’t joking when he said things would change, but Arya had never expected that kind of revelation. She rose from her sit and looked at the heart tree, as if looking for guidance. What she was supposed to do now?

“Father always said that he didn’t want to have a daughter married to a Targaryen.” Arya answered in a whisper. “I don’t think he would allow it.”

“He won’t have any say in the matter, if you tell me that you will have me.” Jon answered in a way that sounded way too practical. “I already have a royal permission.”

“Since when?” She asked out of shock.

“A few months ago I asked for it and the king granted it to me. As I said, it had always been my father’s plan and I don’t think it to be a bad one.” Jon lowered his eyes and for a second Arya thought that he was about to cry. “I’ll understand if you don’t want me in the same way. I would never force you to do anything that you don’t want to, but…Your father is already considering marry you to Edric Dayne. Even if his ambitions with Dayne come to a dead end, it will be someone else. Another stranger, someone you’ve never seen and you won’t have any word in the matter.”

“What you are saying is that I am at a cross road.” Arya closed her eyes. “Since when you have such an idea?”

“Since I was ten and you were six.” He said, making her muffle a laugh. “Of course I had no idea of what marriage implicated back then. For me it was just picking the prettiest girl I ccould find, hope she wouldn’t find me stupid and after a while a baby would show up.”

“I’m not pretty.” She said shyly.

“I think you are.” Jon answered in a way that made her warm inside.

“I think you are stupid.” Arya teased.

“You are probably right, but I’ve never said I had a healthy taste on women.” Jon answered with a smirk. “With time I started to consider my duties as heir to my father. If I am to rule one day, how could I do it without my best friend by my side to tell me when I’m being stupid? Nothing of this was love, at least not in the way the songs talk about. I don’t know when it changed, but it did and now…I can’t picture a day in my life without you and I don’t want to know how it feels.”

Once more they felt silent.

Arya looked at him carefully and considered everything he had told her. She had always known that Jon felt abandoned somehow. First the death of his mother in child birth, then his absent father and Viserys cruelties. Jon only knew how it was to be part of family when he came North almost ten years ago.

She loved him in her own way. She craved for his attention and company daily, but until that kiss Jon had always been some sort of holly and genderless figure. She didn’t want to know how it would feel to live a day without him, but she wasn’t sure if she wanted to be a princess and to inflict all that inevitable suffering to her father and sister.

“Would I have to marry you right away?” She asked.

“No. I can give you time if you want to.” Jon answered calmly. “If you think that…Maybe with time you could come to love me too.”

“I do love you.” She answered vehemently, making Jon smile at her with affection.

“But not quite in the same way I love you.” He said. “Not yet at least.” Behind his affectionate smile and kind eyes, Arya could see how easily her words were able to break his heart.

He rose from where he was sitting and walked toward her with calculated movements. For a second Arya thought he might try to kiss her again and that gave her a weird sensation in the pit of her stomach and a kind of anxiety she wasn’t used to feel.

Jon never tried to kiss her again, though. He stood tall in front of her, with the flowers she had given him in one hand, while the other caressed her face gently.

“I can be patient. I can wait for you.” He said calmly. “Say the world and I’ll make it my aim to make you happy.” His eyes reminded her of the king, as if for the first time it was plain enough to her that Jon had much of Rhaegar in him, although they looked nothing alike. The same melancholy, the same cold determination. He talked of making her happy and wait for her to love him in the same way he loved her, but his eyes kept begging her  _Please…Do not reject me._

It was her turn to give him an answer even if she knew nothing about love. Arya answered him in the only way she could. Her lips brushed against his almost timidly. Jon’s hands brought her closer almost immediately and what was meant to be a gentle kiss soon turned into something else. Jon kissed her with passion and what she felt on her veins was fire.

§§§§§§§§§§§§§§

  
  


**Visiting Lady Lyanna**

The announcement was very different from what he had expected. Although he could understand his uncle’s side, it didn’t make any easier to listen to Ned’s accusation against his father.

Ned signed the contract and a feast was prepared to announce and celebrate the future union of House Targaryen and House Stark, but there were no smiles around them. Not even one. Arya was probably the one with the highest spirit. She was at least trying to act normally while chatting with Bran and Robb. Sansa was silent and pale as she played around with her food without having a single bite. Lady Stark seemed resigned, while Benjen stood silently by his side and Jon couldn’t help the feeling that his uncle was probably the only one who wasn’t disappointed at him.

Food and wine consumed and his head was probably too foggy by the end of the feast. Lady Stark had sent Arya back to her room quite early and Jon wasn’t even able to kiss her good night. She waved her hand at him and smirked before disappearing from his sight.

Jon wouldn’t be able to sleep for a long while. His head and heart were restless and he needed some silence to sooth his nerves before considering going to bed. He took a candle and walked all the way to crypts.

He knew his way around the graves by heart. He didn’t belong in Winterfell and the crypt was a cruel remind of it. His body would be given to the flames one day and his soul would go to the seven heavens like the septons would say, but if asked Jon would say that he wanted his body to rest by his mother’s side in the cold crypt.

He found her statue easily enough. The flowers he brought to her tomb were fading and he would have to replace them in the morning. Jon sat on the floor and looked at Lyanna’s face and wondered if she would be upset with him as well for choosing Arya for his bride.

“Uncle Benjen says Arya looks like you.” He said to the statue as he used to. It wasn’t a pray, or anything of the sort. He liked to pretend that his mother was still alive and could hear him. Sometimes she would appear to him in dreams and in his mind Lyanna was warm, funny and pretty. “I think you would like her. Uncle Ned doesn’t approve of what I did and…He told me horrible things. I hope he was wrong. I hope that you had been happy even if for a short time. Would you be happy about my choice? Would you smile at me and say that you are proud of your son? In days like this I miss you. I miss your voice even if I’ve never heard it.”

“One day you will be here talking with statues and one of them will answer just to kill you out of shock.” A familiar voice spoke in the shadows. Jon turned his head to face Arya, standing by his side wearing a cape over her nightgown. “Why are you here bothering your mother in her sleep?”

“I couldn’t sleep.” He answered as she sat by his side. “I came here to meditate a bit.”

“What father said to you?” Arya asked right away. “I knew he wouldn’t be pleased with what you did, but it’s quite unlike him to say anything that might hurt someone. Especially you.”

“It was something about my parents. About what my father did. He thinks my father to be a ruthless man that kidnapped and raped my mother while I grew up hearing about the great love story they lived.” He said it with a heavy heart.

“Whatever happened between them is in the past and should remain there.” Arya answered calmly. “You can’t change it and to think about these things will only make you bitter.”

“What do you think that happened?” Jon asked her before taking her hand into his.

“I think she didn’t want to marry Robert Baratheon and that your father sang to her sweetly, making the decision of running away from Robert quite easy. I think she loved your father, even if only for a few days. I think she regretted her decision when the war started, but she thought about names to give you, and thought about how you would look like when she got you in her arms for the first time and that gave her hope.”

“Is that your idea of a love story?” He asked her with a curious face. Arya smiled kindly at him.

“No. I just don’t think of her as a helpless victim. What happened to her was a fatality, but it’s not unusual for a woman to die after giving birth.”  Arya caressed his hand. “She chose your father, but she didn’t know that choosing him meant choosing a war. I chose you over Edric Dayne. I may regret it in the future when I get mad at you because you did something stupid. That’s the price we pay for every decision made with the heart.”

Jon held her in his arms with gratitude and devotion. He loved Arya even more for what she said, for being a refuge whenever he felt lost. She held him back and covered his face with light kisses, making Jon muffle a laugh.

“I like you better when you laugh.” She said with a smile. “I would like you more if you had a longer hair.”

“Do you want me to let it grow?” Jon asked and Arya nodded in approval. “Are you happy with this engagement?”

Arya remained silent for a few seconds, making it quite obvious that his proposal hasn’t been entirely welcome.

“I never dreamed about being a princess or anyone’s wife and I thought you knew it.” Arya answered in a sober tone. “I wish you had talked with me about your plans first. I can’t really reject a proposal from a prince, no matter how many times you say the contrary. You took me by surprise when you told me. You already had a royal permission when I was still ignorant about everything. What exactly I could have done?”

“You could have said no.” Jon insisted.

“I don’t want to marry you, but if I had told you this I would have lost my friend for good. I would have broken your heart in a way that would have made it impossible for us to remain as friends.” Arya answered sharply. “That I couldn’t tolerate. Mother says that it is a good thing to be friends with the man you are promised to. You already respect him and care for him, which is the difficult part of a marriage. She says that love can be built and with time it gets stronger. I hope she is right.”

“At least we won’t start a war.” Jon said sadly. “I’m sorry for keeping my plans a secret. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I know.” Arya answered before resting her head against his shoulder.

“Is there anything you want to ask me? I mean anything that you want to know about the life of a princess?” Jon asked her kindly.

“Do we have to live in King’s Landidng?” She finally said. “I thing I wouldn’t like to live there or anywhere near Viserys.” Jon caressed her hair tenderly.

“I have my own household at Dragonstone.” He answered while running his fingers through her hair. “We don’t need to live in the Red Keep and our visits can be restricted to royal summons and special occasions. You don’t have to be afraid of Viserys. He will never get anywhere near you and if he tries I’ll kill him with my bare hands.”

“I’m not afraid of him, but I remember the scars on your back. I don’t want you to suffer.” She replied him stubbornly. “At least he doesn’t have the queen mother to protect him anymore.”

“Father had sent him to Volantis to find a suitable bride of valyrina blood. He won’t come back anytime soon and even if he does I’ll make sure he will be as far from us as possible.”

“We will always be friends, won’t we?” She asked with a shaky voice.

“Yes, we will. Nothing will change it.” Jon kissed her forehead.

“Sing to me, like you used to.” Arya whispered. Like usual, it wasn’t a request. It was just her way to say that she wanted a bit of familiarity. It was their way of sharing a secret.

He sang to her a song about home and then a song about hope as his fingers played with a string of her hair. Lyanna remained silent, looking at them with protective eyes, like a guarding angel. He sang to her a song about family and then a song about love.

Arya straightened her back after a while and looked at him. She caressed his face and looked at him in the eyes. He could see that Arya had no idea of how to deal with his feelings. The confusion and uncertainty was there, inside her grey eyes and in the way she frown her eye brows lightly.

“Shall I kiss your lips…” He whispered close to her year. “And confess my feelings to be unholy? Shall I love you from a distance and keep you in my heart like a deity?”

“Give up, Jon.” She replied with a playful smirk. “You are not a poet.”

“Maybe you are right.” He answered before kissing her cheek. “I would write you a thousand sonnets if I knew how, but I find kisses to be more convincing than poetry. I would kiss you a thousand times and more. I would kiss you in every way possible, regardless to morals and decency, until I had you languid in my arms. Until I had you numbed and satisfied. Until the doubts you feel were replaced by certainty and the fears you have turned into bliss.”

“Don’t write me poems than.” Arya whispered to him as her face came closer. “Don’t ask me for kisses either. If you want it, here I stand. Kiss me without modesty. Convince me and seduce me. I don’t want words or sanctity. Give me passion. Kiss me.”

Jon lowered a bit as he brought her face closer to his. His lips felt on hers, first with tenderness and caution, as if trying to convince her of his feelings. His tongue begged for passage and Arya allowed him to make the kiss more intimate.

Her arms around his neck felt like an invitation to bring her closer. He embraced her tightly, feeling her delicate body pressed against his own. His fingers lost in her dark hair as she bites his bottom lip sensuously. Jon kissed her neck and listened with delight to every little noise she made.

“Maybe we should go.” He whispered close to her year.

“I’m not convinced yet.”

§§§§§§§§§§§§§

  
  


**The King’s Memories**

To a certain level, he had overcome his obsession with prophecies. It was a side effect of all the losses his dreams of dragons have caused him, but King Rhaegar couldn’t help noticing with a pang in his heart and fear in his soul that his younger boy, his only living child, had inherited too much of his romantic nature.

Jon had always been a good boy. Rhaegar never understood the name his beloved Lyanna had given to their son, but it had been her last wish according to Ned Stark. When he first saw the baby boy a part of him was relieved at noticing that Jon was more Stark than Targaryen. At the time he considered it a good omen, but perhaps he had inherited more of the Targaryen nature than his looks gave him credit for.

The boy had been lonely most of his life, as royal children with no siblings usually were, but that had been the King’s fault. Daenerys liked him well enough, while Viserys should be kept as far as possible from the young prince to avoid nasty consequences of his vicious nature. It was a sad thing to notice that his beloved son had been cursed with so little happiness in his life and too much loneliness for someone so young.

It had been a year since the Greyjoy rebellion when the King decided that Jon needed company. Rhaegar decided to celebrate Jon’s name day in great style to honor both the boy and the Targaryen victory. Even if the crown’s relationship with the Starks wasn’t a good one since Lyanna’s death, Rhaegar considered that it would be for the best to invite Lord Star with his wife and children to attend the celebration, hoping that the presence of so many cousins would make Jon happy.

That had been his greatest idea in ages, Rhaegar concluded whenever he saw the children playing with the young prince. Since the Stark children arrival, the sound of Jon’s laugh had been more frequent, especially when young Lady Arya decided to join the games. What was meant to be a short visit soon became a decree. Jon would travel North to be fostered by his uncle, as his mother would have wanted.

Years passed since and when the time for the prince to return home arrived, Rhaegar received Jon’s letter asking for a way to make it possible for his cousin, Lady Arya, to come with him back to the capitol.

That hasn’t been a surprise. Since his first letter Jon would tell him all about his little cousin and all of her doings in colorful details. At first Rhaegar had seen it as nothing but affinity and the consequences of Lady Arya’s extroverted personality. The tone of the letters had changed along the years, though. What once had been a childish admiration was changing into something far more…Dangerous.

Nothing good ever came from a Targaryen in love, especially is this said love had been antagonized by politics or the need of alliances. The second sister was hardly an ideal choice for a match, but the girl was a Stark, her uncle was Lord Tully and her aunt Lady Arryn. His plan of dethrone his father seemed to be working just fine, at least in which concerned providing the crown with a worthy bride to the young prince. Perhaps a future match wouldn’t be something so unthinkable.

When they finally arrived Rhaegar wasn’t surprised by Ned Stark’s sudden appearance at the Red Keep, following his dearest daughter like a shadow. The King couldn’t even blame him for being over protective since not even Rhaegar could ignore the obvious once he looked at Lady Arya more closely.

It was like seeing a ghost. Her laugh, her hair, her grey eyes and even her spirit…It was as if Lyanna had come back to life, and Jon wasn’t any smarter than Rhaegar had been when faced with a wild Stark girl.

“I have nothing to say to you, but this…If history must repeat itself, I will do everything in my power to prevent my daughter of becoming another victim of it.” Ned Stark had said in his usual sober tone, but this time there were tears in his eyes. “She hasn’t been promised to anyone.”

“I’m glad to know that we agree in this, but before any public announcement can be made, I must talk to both of them.” The King declared.

Eventually he called for a private audience with his son. Jon came to his study with a stern face and the posture of a man heading into battle to either conquer glory or die trying.  _Gods be good. He has too much of me in him._

“I’ll ask you something and I wish you to be honest with me.” Rhaegar declared bluntly. “Why have you insisted in bringing Lady Arya with you?” Jon didn’t even blink at his question. He chose to look at his father’s face with his sad grey eyes and the weight of the world on his shoulders.  _He had fought against it and lost…My son has his mind in the right place, but his heart has won the battle._

“I love her.” Jon confessed. “There’s no other reason but this. I know how inconvenient it must be. I know my duties as your heir. I know that any bride eventually picked for me would a matter of politics and alliances, but…Once you have stood in my place. If you had the chance to do things differently…If you weren’t married to another at the time…Wouldn’t you try to do things properly?” Jon sighted. “I am the child of a cursed love, and I don’t want to make the same mistakes you have, Father.”

“Does she feel the same about you?” Rhaegar asked gently. To deny his son wishes would be a disaster. Jon tried to conceal a smile.

“If you ask her, she’ll tell you that I am stupid. She’ll tell you that she doesn’t want to be queen or a princess, but…I guess we both agree that we don’t want to know how it feels to be apart from each other.” Rhaegar looked at him carefully.

“I admit that it could have been a lot worst.” The King sighted. “At least she is a Stark and there’s no better blood in the Seven Kingdoms at the moment.” Rhaegar smiled at him. “Bring her here. I need to talk with your bride if we are to make it public.”

Facing his son had never been the real problem in this matter. Jon was responsible and well prepared for the tasks of being the future king. Allowing the boy a bit of happiness, especially with a girl form noble birth and the right surname wouldn’t be a terrible thing to do. It was Lady Arya who really concerned the King. Was she apt to the task? Was she strong enough to face the endless challenges that a life at court would present her?

Lady Arya Stark came to see the King and once she entered the room Rhaegar nearly lost his breath. It was like seeing Lyanna entering the ballroom at Harenhall. He had dreamed about the child his lady love would give him, and at the time Rhaegar had expected for a girl just like the one standing in front of him. Young, fierce, clever and beautiful as the woman he had loved.

“Do you know why you are here, my lady?” The king asked kindly.

“Yes.” She answered simply. “Jon has told me about his meeting and Father is grumpier than usual.”

“I suppose it’s for the best if we speak frankly about the matter.” Rhaegar smiled at her answer. “Why are you here?”

She looked at him without an ounce of doubt or intimidation. If she was afraid of him, Rhaegar could not tell.  _Lyanna wouldn’t have either. It would have been for the best if she had feared me and my name._

“I’m here because of Jon.” Her answer was short, blunt and a bit sarcastic.

“Why don’t you address my son by his proper title?” Rhaegar insisted curiously. She bit her bottom lip as if she had forgotten something.

“Because I can’t remember to do it when I should, but he is the one to blame for it.” Arya answered with obvious embarrassment. “He likes it. I mean, he likes that I never minded his titles. Why should I, anyway? He has a name like anyone else. That’s who he is.”

“I would agree with you, but he is my son and heir. Jon is to be king once I’m gone and if I am to agree with his wishes in this I must know the kind of woman that will sit by his side and give birth to his children.” Rhaegar said calmly. “Do you think that you suit the position? Your sons will be princes, lords, knights and even High Spetons, if the gods think it to be proper. I must know if you are up to the task.”

“No, I’m not.” She said just as calmly. “If you consider a proper queen to be well mannered and talented with needles, and fiddles, lute and ability to sing all the pretty songs in the world, that’s not who I am. That would be my sister and she would love to have a crown on her head and give Jon the prettiest babies.”

“Then why you agreed to come here?” Rhaegar asked.

“Because maybe Your Grace thinks that what makes a good queen is something else entirely.” Arya answered sharply. “I don’t want a crown on my head. I don’t want gold, or power for the sake of my vanity and greed. I came here because there was no other way for me to stay by Jon’s side once you called him back and he was stupid enough to propose me. If by any chance Your Grace thinks that what makes a good queen is her commitment to the man that wears the crown, the future of her country and her love for justice, then maybe I am not a terrible choice.”

The gleam in her eyes was familiar like a dream and for a second Rhaegar remembered why he had fallen in love with Lyanna so madly. That girl had the same spark capable of setting the Seven Kingdoms on fire and the King was tired of war.

One day Arya Stark would be queen and the only thing Rhaegar regretted about it was the fact that he hadn’t set his eyes on her earlier so he could have taken her himself.

 

  
  


  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it and reviews are highly appreciated.  
> P.S.: I won't mark this work as complete because I might write more drabbles in the future.


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